


My Conviction

by eirenical (chibi1723)



Series: Where Do I Go? FicVerse -- Side Stories [7]
Category: Hair - MacDermot/Rado/Ragni
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, Gender Identity Issues, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-10
Updated: 2010-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chibi1723/pseuds/eirenical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claude has all but given up on the idea that he will have a life to live now that he's received his draft card, but a chance encounter with an unusual pair of tourists convinces him to try to infuse one last bit of magic and hope into his Tribe before he is taken away from them for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See? I haven't forgotten my favorite fandom! I just hit a minor writing burn-out. O_O;;; But I'm back! From outer space! I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face! I should have changed... that... stupid... lock... *sweatdrop* OK. I think I'll stop now. -.-;;;
> 
> OK, I don't normally do this this way, but I couldn't resist 's sad plea for fic and this one doesn't feel finished and I don't think I can get it there tonight. So, this will serve as part 1 and I'm going to post it now, even though I don't have a part 2, yet. Hopefully I'll have one soon... at least I'll try. ^_^ In the meantime, enjoy!
> 
>  **Title:** My Conviction  
>  **Fandom:** Hair, the musical: 2009 Revival  
>  **Pairing:** Berger/Claude, Margaret/Hubert, Jeanie + Claude  
>  **Rating:** PG-13 for some adult themes  
>  **Word Count:** 6,124/????  
>  **Warnings:** Slash. Mild angst. Gender confusion.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Neither the musical nor the boys belong to me, if they did they'd be groping each other on sta--. *pause* *blinkblink* Huh. Look at that... they do. *eg* :D _((Hair was written by James Rado and Gerome Ragni with music by Galt MacDermot.))_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _September 10, 2010:_** I've been threatening this one for awhile now and Josh Lamon's excessive cuteness (and the fact that he _is_ on the tour!) prompted me to finally spew it forth. ^_^ This is the story of Margaret Mead's meeting with the Tribe and ultimately about Claude's thoughts on parting with his loved ones. My thoughts were with all my fellow Hair fans in London as I was writing this along with my best wishes for a swift healing from your loss. I understand all too well how you feel, as I've been through it twice myself. *massive snugs to you all* And on that massively cornball note... the fic!
> 
> O_O;;; Damned Nyquil. O_O;;;

  
**My Conviction: Part 1**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


"Come on, man. You gotta see this!"

Claude shook his head with a heavy sigh. Those words almost never preceded anything good these days. It was his own fault, really. He'd been so down lately and Berger was just trying to cheer him up, give him a reason to smile. It would have been endearing... except that Berger was already prone to some pretty wild feats and he'd been outdoing himself in his craziness in his attempts. Not even Sheila was managing to keep him in check.

"Come on... I promise, Claudio. You've really gotta see this."

When Claude heard the note of mild pleading creep into Berger's voice, he knew he'd already lost. It was only a hop, skip and a jump from there to real desperation and Claude could never resist giving the younger boy whatever he wanted when he was that concerned. Finally lifting his eyes from the ground where they'd been firmly fixed, he raised an eyebrow, "What do I have to see, Banana-Berger?"

Having gotten Claude's attention at last, Berger's lips stretched up into a smile and he held out a hand to the other boy, "Uh-uh, Claudio. I said you've gotta _see_ it. Trust me."

"Trust you? _Trust_ you? Berger, the last time you said that, we both ended up taking a dunking into Bethesda Fountain... with our clothes on," but even as he spoke the words, Claude was grabbing Berger's hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. The reality was, no matter how often the younger boy proved he wasn't worthy of it, no matter how many times Berger had nearly gotten him into serious trouble, he _did_ trust Berger. He trusted the other boy with his life-- no. No, he trusted him with far more than that. He trusted Berger with his very soul... and with his heart. And he knew that given the opportunity, he'd follow the other boy to the ends of the Earth and back. Following him to the other side of the park was nothing in comparison, even if it ended with them in another fountain... in November.

Berger's smile widened as he used his position to pull Claude not only to his feet, but into his arms. As he settled his arms firmly around Claude's waist, he pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose, "Aw... it was hot that day. You said yourself that you needed to cool off. And I said I was sorry, didn't I?"

Shoving lightly at Berger's shoulder, Claude frowned, "You can't always fix everything with an apology, Berger. Some things just can't _be_ fixed." He wasn't talking about the dunking in the fountain anymore and he could tell by the suddenly shuttered look on the younger boy's face that Berger well understood that. Still, he didn't say anything. He didn't have to, really... except that Claude might have almost welcomed the chance to talk to Berger about it. He didn't push, though. He wasn't that cruel. It had almost become taboo, an unspoken thing between them... Claude's draft card. Berger thought he should burn it, as did the rest of the Tribe, but for some reason, Claude just couldn't. He didn't want to die, but would the alternative really be any better? He couldn't take that final step that would land him in jail and destroy what little was left of his relationship with his father. And after Berger had confessed last week that he'd been kicked out of school? It became that much more painful a subject to broach and the one time he'd tried it had prompted a rare argument between the two of them that had taken days to resolve. Claude didn't really want to waste any of the time they had left by starting another one.

Electing not to answer what Claude had said, Berger instead pressed himself up against the older boy, hands insistently sliding beneath his shirt to touch the bare skin of his back as he nuzzled his face against Claude's chest. His next words were quiet, almost inaudible, "Please, Claudio... just come see."

And there it was, that note of true desperation, a hint of fear. Claude had known it was coming, had known he was provoking it with his own reaction and felt a stab of guilt for causing that pleading tone to enter the normally happy-go-lucky Tribe leader's voice... but he'd needed to hear it. He needed to know that Berger feared losing him. He needed to know that he'd be missed when he was gone, that the younger boy would remember him. He needed to know that he still had a place at Berger's side for however long he could fill it. And if that made him weak, so be it. Lifting a hand to run it through Berger's wild curls, Claude bent his head and whispered his next words directly into the younger boy's ear, "All right, Sexy-Berger. I'm all yours. Show me."

The speed with which the younger boy bounced back never ceased to astonish Claude. His head jerked up from Claude's chest and that wide smile reappeared as though it had never gone. Tugging lightly at the other boy's hand, he said, "This way, Claudio!" Claude followed him, laughing at the folly of it all, but unable to turn away or refuse, like always.

  


* * *

They reached the other side of the park after a long but enjoyable game of balk-and-tug, with Claude playfully pulling back on Berger's arm and making the other boy drag him along for a step or two before relaxing his arm so that the loss of resistance made them snap together like a rubber band. At this point one of them would then steal a kiss. As eager as Berger was to reach their destination, he wasn't exactly protesting the nature of their travel. He couldn't, not really -- he'd invented the game to begin with. And it wasn't Claude's fault if he'd turned out to be a better player. With a smirk, Claude got ready to allow himself to be pulled in one last time, but was stymied in his plans by Berger stopping short right in front of him. Naturally, Claude ran right into him, letting out a small "Oof" as Berger's elbow impacted with his stomach. At the sound, Berger turned to give Claude a questioning look, then smirked at the older boy's predicament. Letting out a soft snort, he snarked out, "Graceful."

Claude made a face and a rude finger gesture while irritatedly rubbing at his solar plexus. Berger just smirked. After a few seconds of rubbing, Claude straightened back up and looked around. Most of the Tribe was sprawled out in the grass or cavorting around in the piles of autumn-colored leaves. Crissy was braiding Sheila's hair and Jeanie was sprawled in Sheila's lap, twirling a leaf between her fingers. Woof was sitting up in the branches of a maple tree, dropping leaves down on top of a sleeping Dionne. Hud was a little ways away, sprawled out on top of Suzanne. The rest of the Tribe was similarly engaged. In short... it was a perfectly normal day for the Tribe in Washington Square Park, "OK... I'll bite. What's so special?"

In answer, Berger lifted a hand and pointed across the park. Claude squinted in that direction, trying to figure out what on Earth could have caught Berger's interest. There was the usual smattering of older couples walking the paths, parents out with their children, people playing with their dogs and younger couples making out on the benches. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Finally he turned to Berger and shrugged. Berger sighed, pressed his cheek to Claude's and turned both their heads to look off to the right, then quietly said, "Mr. and Mrs. Joe Ohio on the bench over there. See them?"

Claude nodded, still perplexed. They looked like any of the other older couples out enjoying the park, even if they might as well have the word "tourist" stamped across their foreheads. Claude still didn't see anything particularly special about them. Berger continued, "They've been hanging out in the park watching us for a couple of days, man. Mr. Ohio was even snapping pictures at one point. They seem pretty harmless, but there's something about them, man... I don't know. Can't put my finger on it, but something just isn't right."

And that was when Claude understood. This wasn't Berger finding something crazy or indecent to jerk Claude out of his depressive rut. This was Berger, the Tribe's leader, worried about something that might be a threat to his little flowers. Claude didn't get to see this side of him often, but he recognized it just the same -- it was the side of Berger that Woof called his "George side." And that side of him was concerned about this couple and wanted Claude's support to find out what they were all about. Well, this was something he could do. He and Berger had played out variations of this scenario with tourist after tourist after tourist. Feeling his own wicked streak waken to match Berger's, he nodded to show he understood. When he saw Berger's answering smirk, he placed one gentle kiss against the other boy's temple, then separated from Berger and moved to approach the bench from the front, leaving the younger boy to approach from the back.

As he walked, he took in the couple's appearance. They were older, maybe his parents' age, maybe even a little older than that. The man was skinny, a little twitchy. He looked like a clerk, actually, with a constantly pinched expression to his face, like he needed to squint even with those coke-bottle glasses. The woman was... stately, even beautiful in an unconventional sort of way. Her silver hair was elegantly coiffed into curls and she wore long white gloves and a silk dress under her blue wool coat. She had one arm wrapped around her husband's as she leaned close to him and murmured soft words into his ear. Claude was forcibly reminded of his mother while watching her.

Once he got within ten feet, she seemed to notice him and looked up from her husband to turn her storm-blue eyes on Claude. Not to be deterred, he let a slightly wicked smile bloom on his face and said, "Hey, lady. Spare a quarter for the bench usage fee?"

She blinked those wide blue eyes at him and blushed, then turned her eyes back to her husband and whispered, "Hubert...?"

The man swallowed hard and tugged at his shirt collar. The poor guy looked like he was about to have a fit of apoplexy. Taking pity on him, Claude let his smile warm a touch, "Hey, it's cool, lady. It's a free park, I was just messing with you." Settling down on the bench on the other side of the woman, he draped an arm around her shoulders, "So, where are you two lovebirds from? Not from around here, that's for sure."

Clearing her throat, the woman answered in a husky alto voice that Claude secretly admitted did wonderfully naughty things to his libido. Even though she was far older than could interest him, Claude concluded that her husband was a lucky man for those eyes and that voice, alone. She said, "We're from Ohio. We're here for our honeymoon."

Smile widening, Claude poked the woman's husband in the shoulder and waggled his eyebrows, "Ah... so you're newlyweds, then! Isn't that great? Make love, not war! Because love is what it's all about, man, am I right?"

Hubert blushed even harder than his wife had and ducked his head into his coat collar. It took everything in Claude to not burst out laughing at the poor man. It didn't even much surprise him when his wife leapt to his defense, a snap to her voice that, again, reminded Claude of his mother, "Now that's just vulgar. There's no need for that kind of behavior."

At that Claude did laugh, "Oh boy, lady, did _you_ pick the wrong place to honeymoon."

Lips pursing, the woman's eyes flashed, "You should show a little respect for your elders. Ohio or New York, it just isn't right to treat us with such disrespect."

Sensing Berger raring to jump in on the other side of the bench, Claude graciously allowed the responsibility for that answer to fall to the other boy. Berger settled down on the other side of Hubert and let his smile grow some teeth, "So I suppose an invitation to tonight's orgy wouldn't be too well received then, huh?"

Not having noticed his approach, the older couple jumped and whipped around to face him. By then his smile had settled into one of pure innocence. Claude didn't buy it for a minute, because Claude knew him better than that. Something about these two had woken Berger's protective instincts and he was ready to bloodlessly gut the pair at a moment's notice. This opening act was nothing. Hubert blushed a wildfire shade of red and turned to his wife, spluttering, "An o-o-o-or... M-M-Margaret?"

The woman raised one gloved hand to stroke her husband's cheek and gave him a smile of such gentle warmth that Claude was actually a little embarrassed at the teasing they'd been subjecting the couple to. At that smile, the man calmed and leaned into his wife's touch. That accomplished, the woman turned her flashing eyes back on Claude and demanded, "I'd like to know why you're treating us this way. We're just visitors from another--"

Before she could finish, Berger interjected, "...planet?"

She scowled as she whipped around to face him and bit out the word, "Gen-er-a-tion," in clipped tones before continuing, "We've never done anything to you."

Berger at least had the good grace to look a little sheepish at that, "To be honest, lady? You've been in the park spying on my Tribe for the last few days and your little bookworm of a husband has been taking an awful lot of pictures. It's making me a little edgy."

At the younger man's explanation, Margaret seemed to reevaluate the situation and her expression softened, "You thought we were here to do your friends harm?" Berger just shrugged. That soft smile again alighted on Margaret's face as she reached across her husband to pat Berger's cheek in the same way, "And aren't you just the most darling thing ever?" Before Berger had a chance to react, she'd turned to give Claude the same treatment, "And you were worried, too, cupcake?"

Claude looked up to find Berger nearly in stitches as he mouthed the word "cupcake" over and over. He sighed. Looked like he'd just acquired a new nickname... Forcing his attention back on Margaret, he shrugged, "When Berger worries, it's usually for a reason. It doesn't happen often, so when it does, the whole Tribe pays attention. I'm no exception."

Margaret nodded, a thoughtful smile on her face. Finally, her eyebrows both shot up into her hairline as though she'd had some epiphany. All but bouncing in her excitement, she fluttered a hand in the air, "Oh, oh Hubert! I think you were right!" Turning back to Claude, eyes shining, she asked, "I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I need to ask. Are you... are you both... Are you _hippies_??"

Berger snorted and rolled his eyes. No wonder. Claude privately thought that it would have been obvious that they were hippies, but maybe there weren't any in Ohio for them to compare to. Laughing softly, he nodded and spread his hands, "The whole Tribe, Maggie. Can I call you Maggie?"

So delighted was she by his response that Margaret just nodded distractedly as she turned to her husband, "Hubert, how exciting! It's a whole haggle of hippi!"

Berger caught Claude's eyes again and mouthed, "Hippi?" Claude just shook his head and gave Berger a pleading expression in response. He didn't know what it was about this couple that had set Berger off. Truth to tell, they looked awfully normal to him. And the fact that they were handling this so well -- and with such apparent delight -- was a point in their favor as far as Claude was concerned. He tried to wave Berger silent, but acted a moment too late. Berger was on his feet in front of the pair, a mischievous smirk on his face, "So instead of sitting over here playing the voyeurs, maybe you'd like to meet them?"

Hubert looked like he'd like to say no, seemed more like the kind of man who preferred sitting on the sidelines and letting life pass him by. Claude could sympathize. He'd been like that himself before meeting Berger and still was to a large extent. Margaret, on the other hand, leapt to her feet like a schoolgirl on Christmas morning, breathlessly answering Berger's question with an, "Oh, _yes_! We'd be delighted!"

Looking more comfortable with each passing second, Berger smiled gamely and offered the older woman his arm. She wrapped her own around his without hesitation, a glow to her cheeks and a smile in her eyes as she started expounding on her interest in the youthful counterculture and how she'd insisted that she and Hubert honeymoon either in New York or California for that very reason. She admired them for their sense of freedom, of willful abandon, and how they managed to maintain such contrary dedication to their cause at the same time. Listening to an older woman expound so eloquently about their virtues made Claude blush. He wasn't that special, had never been that special. Berger was the special one. Berger and Sheila, Jeanie, Dionne and Hud, even innocent little Crissy. They were the special ones. With a sigh for the inevitable, he waved Hubert off the bench and they followed meekly in their partners' footsteps.

By the time they'd reached the girls where they were sprawled out in the grass, they'd garnered a bit of attention. The rest of the Tribe slowly melted out of the wood to gather around and see what their leader had brought them. He introduced them as Margaret and Hubert, visiting from 1940s Ohio. Claude rolled his eyes at that one, but Margaret just continued to grin with delight as the rest of the Tribe stepped forward to introduce themselves in turn.

When they had finally all been introduced, Claude saw a calculating smirk enter Margaret's eyes and had to hold back a shiver. He knew that look. It was kin to one of Berger's and if that was any indication of what it represented, then it wouldn't lead to anything good. Claude stepped up next to Berger and wrapped an arm around the other boy's waist. Margaret watched the two for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. Then she seemed to shake off the mood and return to her earlier expression of mischief. She said, "Since we're all friends, now, perhaps you would permit a question?" At the collective nod she received, she asked, "W--?" She paused a moment, then started again, "Wh--?" Finally, making a frustrated noise, she waved a hand to indicate Berger, and said simply, "Why?"

For a moment, no one reacted. There was so much that she could have meant by that statement. Why choose Berger as their leader? Why the tattered jeans? Why the bare chest even with autumn's bitter chill in the air? Why the attitude? There were so many things to choose from in that list. But there was something in the way that Margaret was now stroking Hubert's nearly bald head that finally clued him in to the real question and Claude couldn't help but smile when he finally caught on. Reaching up to ruffle Berger's wild, dark curls, he asked, "Why this?" At Margaret's nod, he laughed, "Why not, Maggie?"

The rest of the Tribe responded to that with howls of laughter. Hud stepped up from the back of the crowd to stand next to Hubert. Draping a hand around the poor man's shaking shoulders, he smirked, "You ask me why, Big Daddy? I like the feel of the long, silky strands caressing my skin." Turning to stroke a gentle hand down Margaret's cheek, he gave her a lascivious grin, "Don't you agree, little lady?"

The rest of the Tribe still laughing around them, Margaret turned to her husband and softly sighed. Taking a step closer, she turned his head to face her. Once she had his attention, she cupped his cheek again, "You see, Hubert?" Eyes shining, she said, "They do it for the sensual experience... because it feels good."

At that, Berger practically crowed with delight as he swung Claude into a tight embrace. Smirking up at the older boy, he replied, "Lady's got that right, that's for sure!" Smirking even more widely at the scowl now crossing Claude's face, he added, "I could use a little of that 'sensual experience,' right now. What do you say, Claudio?"

Scowl deepening, Claude rolled his eyes, "Berger, knock it off. We have guests. You could try to be a little more hospitable."

Berger gave him that same innocent look that had failed to impress him before, "But, Claudio... I invited them to the orgy. How much more hospitable can I be?"

At that point, Woof wandered over to whisper something in Berger's ear. Berger's grin stretched to epic proportions and he threw back his head and laughed. Claude's eyes narrowed, "Woof? What did you tell him?" When no answer was forthcoming from the Tribe's resident wild child, he poked Berger hard in the shoulder and asked again, "Berger? What did he say to you?"

Eyes full of mischievous glee, Berger pulled Claude flush up against him and pressed a smirking kiss to the corner of his lips. Claude refused to play along. Normally he was all for harassing tourists, but for some reason, this was leaving him feeling a little cold. They were a _nice_ couple. He liked them. And his heart just wasn't really in this carefree tomfoolery today. It hadn't been in some time. Sensing that he wasn't going to be able to bully Claude into a better mood, Berger sighed and loosened his grip, "Our Shaman suggested that Mr. and Mrs. Mead might benefit from a 'hippie makeover.'" Waggling his eyebrows, he added, almost daring Claude to disagree, "I think it's a great idea."

Claude sighed, "Don't you think we should ask them first?"

Berger tilted his head to the side, for all intents and purposes appearing deep in thought, then laughed and said, "Nope!" Planting one last playful kiss on Claude's lips, he swung away from the older boy, gathered up Hubert and dragged him and the rest of the Tribe's male members off into the Park.

Margaret held up one hand after her husband, a worried frown on her face and a protest dying on her lips. After a moment, she lowered her hand and tucked it against her chest, looking more sad and forlorn than Claude had seen her all morning. Unable to resist such a look, he stepped closer and dropped an arm around her shoulders. Unconsciously, she leaned into him, tucking her head against his shoulder. Quietly, she whispered, "He... He'll be all right, won't he?"

Claude pressed a soft kiss to her silver curls and gave her a gentle squeeze, "He'll be fine. In spite of appearances, Berger's mostly harmless and he really does have the best of intentions."

Margaret snorted, pulled back to look impishly up at him, "Yes. And we all know what they say about _those_."

Claude couldn't help but laugh at the tartness in the woman's voice, "Lady, it's a shame you live in Ohio. You'd fit right in with us! You ready for a hippie makeover of your own?"

At that, the older woman unaccountably stiffened, a deep blush suffusing her features, "Oh, I... I couldn't. It just... It wouldn't be right. I... I should just wait for Hubert."

As though she sensed the older woman's sudden discomfiture, Jeanie stepped up to her other side and rested one gentle hand against her cheek, "Why so shy? Just a few minutes ago you were totally excited, grams. Now, your aura's all out of whack. What happened?"

Swallowing hard, the woman answered in a shaking whisper of a voice, "I... I don't like to get undressed in front of other people."

Watching her as intently as he was, Claude's eyes widened in sudden understanding and he let out a small, breathless, "Oh..." As Jeanie's eyes abruptly shifted to land on him, he gave her the most reassuring smile he could, "Jeanie, why don't you and the girls go find some clothes for her and let me talk to her alone? Maybe I can talk her around by the time you come back."

Eyes confused but ever-trusting, Jeanie replied, "OK, Claudio. We'll do that." Tossing him one last eyebrow-quirked look over her shoulder she then headed back to join the rest of the girls. Once in on the plan, Sheila turned her head to look worriedly back at him, too. He gave her the most reassuring smile that he could and waved her off with the others.

Once he and Margaret were alone, Claude let out a throaty laugh and shook his head, "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie. You have one hell of a brass set, that is for _damned_ sure." At Margaret's affronted look, he tipped her chin upwards and stroked one gentle finger down her throat, "You had me fooled for a while, but this gave you away. I think Berger may have figured you out, too. At least he knew something wasn't quite right. You have an explanation?"

The flush drained out of Margaret's cheeks leaving her complexion white as paper and the speed with which it happened had Claude grasping at her elbow to steady her. Mentally kicking himself, he led her over to the nearest bench and helped her sit down, murmuring whatever reassuring nonsense he could think of as they went. Eventually a hint of color returned to her cheeks and she grabbed at his hands, eyes a little wild, "He... he wouldn't say anything to Hubert, would he?" At Claude's stunned, open-mouthed look, her blush once again deepened and she ducked her head and added, "He... uh... he doesn't... he doesn't _know_."

Claude exploded with, "How the hell could he not _know_?? I mean, this _is_ your honeymoon, right? Wouldn't he have, I don't know! Wouldn't he have... noticed?" He could feel his voice getting slightly more high-pitched and hysterical with every word until he finally ended his embarrassed outpouring with a very unmanly squeak.

Seeing the younger boy so discomfited, however, seemed to give Margaret back some of her equanimity and she patted Claude's hand. Once he calmed, she pulled him down on the bench beside her. Quietly, she answered, "You may have noticed that Hubert is... well, he's a bit... inhibited."

Claude let out a soft snort, "And I think you just won the award for understatement of the year." Blushing hotly himself, he added, "So, I gather you two haven't exactly... um... consummated your relationship then... huh?"

Margaret shook her head, letting out a heavy sigh, "I'll admit to having hoped that the subject would never come up, what with Hubert's... intimacy issues."

Burying his face in his hands, Claude couldn't help the small, hysterical giggle that escaped. This was as bad as talking to his parents about sex -- and somehow it was worse, because he'd never expected to be on the other end of the conversation! Finally he cleared his throat and sat back up, "How... Why...?" Making a frustrated noise, he waved a hand over her.

Smiling softly, "Why go through all this? How did I hide who I was? Why choose Hubert?" At Claude's mute nod, she smiled, "I went through all this because... well... I suppose you could say that it felt like I'd been born in the wrong body." Voice dropping into a quieter tone, she said, "I never once felt right about who I was, never felt comfortable in my own skin. Then, one night at school, as a cruel joke, I suppose, the other boys dressed me in women's clothing and locked me out of the dorm. I was forced to go to the Provost's office to get let back in." Her face relaxed into a soft smile, "I never thought I would have cause to be grateful to those awful little wretches... but I am. If not for them, I would never have understood." She raised her stormy blue eyes to meet Claude's, "Walking around campus that night with that soft skirt swirling around my legs and with my feet in heels... I'd never in my life felt so comfortable, so myself. That was when I finally understood."

Seeing that she had Claude's rapt attention, Margaret smiled softly and continued, "Of course, I wasn't ready to act on that knowledge at the time, but at least now things made sense. I graduated school, went on to college, got work in an office. I even dated a young woman for a time. I did anything that I could to make myself fit in with the life that was expected of me. And then I met Hubert. I... I did his taxes for him for several years. And after a time, he grew more comfortable around me, started talking to me the way he did to few others, with passion and bravery in his voice." Eyes shining, Margaret's whole demeanor softened, "And there was just something about him... I can't even put it into words."

But Claude... Claude could. Swallowing harshly, he said simply, "You love him."

Margaret raised a hand and patted his cheek with a grateful smile, "I suppose it does boil down to that, doesn't it? But I already knew that he could never love me as I appeared to be... so I decided to show him who I _really_ was deep down inside. It took almost two years after I made the decision before I gathered up the courage to actually do it, but I eventually told him that I knew someone, a cousin, a friend -- I don't even remember what I told him at the time -- that I thought would be perfect for him and set him up on a blind date. And when he arrived... there I was dressed as you see me, adorned in a wig and with my former self but a memory. I was no longer Peter Brooks, CPA... now I was Margaret Ann Peters. And Hubert was smitten with me from the very first moment he set eyes on me. We dined and we danced and we talked into the wee hours of the morning like the oldest and best of friends... because, really... we were."

By this point, she was holding tightly to Claude's hand, eyes lost in the memory. Claude didn't dare even breathe too loudly, lest he interrupt. Eventually, she continued, "I had a few less than savory contacts in those days and they forged papers for me: a new birth certificate, social security card, I gather it wasn't that unusual a request. And it didn't take much convincing to get Hubert to agree to elope rather than have a huge ceremony... and here we are: in New York on our honeymoon." Quietly she added, "I hope to convince him to relocate here permanently. I like it here. Truly, I do. And a relocation would solve certain other... difficulties."

Patting her hand gently, Claude said, "So your fascination with us hippies...?"

Smiling sheepishly up at him as though she'd nearly forgotten he was there, Margaret said, "I admire you for your sense of freedom, your willfulness, the fact that you won't compromise who you are to conform to the masses. As you can imagine, I rather identify with it."

Claude raised her hand gently to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, "I imagine you can. If... if you'd had an opportunity to be with Hubert as yourself... would you have taken it?"

That impish twinkle finally reemerged in her eyes and she turned her hand to delicately pinch his cheek, "You mean like you and your young man?" At Claude's blush, she laughed and patted his cheek, "How could I not notice? _He_ certainly isn't very... hmm... inhibited, is he?"

Laughing, Claude shook his head, "No, he certainly isn't that. But that's just part of who he is, you know? Nothing pins down George Berger. Nothing and no one." Eyes taking on a sad cast, he added, "I worry for him, you know? For what will happen to him when I'm gone."

Margaret's eyes narrowed, her voice turned sharp, "And why would you leave if you love him so much?"

Fishing a much creased and abused card out of his back pocket, he wordlessly handed it over. Once she'd read it, her eyes filled with a sheen of tears and she pulled him into a gentle embrace, "Oh, cupcake... I'm so sorry. Maybe you won't be called...?"

Pulling gently away, Claude shrugged. He took the card back and stuffed it back into his pocket, "I've known it was coming for a while. It's not like it's a surprise. Most of the men in the Tribe have one just like it -- the price we pay for 'not conforming to the masses.' I just... for some reason, I think I _will_ be called. I'll be called and I'll go... and I'll die. Somehow, I just know. And I can't shake that feeling no matter how hard I try. So, though I wish that I could stay... I don't think it's going to happen."

Having nothing she could say in response to that, Margaret cleared her throat and answered Claude's earlier question, "I think... I think that if I had the opportunity to be with Hubert, no secrets between us, I would welcome that as a rare gift. But in the end, I still don't think I could have been with him as Peter. In my heart, ever since I was a young child, I've always been Maggie. I couldn't have done it any other way. Peter was just as inhibited as Hubert -- worse in many ways. Ultimately, I think it's why we were drawn to each other in the first place. And if it had been up to Peter... we would never have had each other."

During her little speech, Claude dragged his emotions back under control, "Well, Maggie... I'm feeling like a genie, today. So why don't we see what we can do about making at least one of our wishes come true?"

With a bright smile, he dragged her up off the bench and over to where the girls were waiting in respectful silence as they finished their talk. Crissy beamed as she bounced over to Margaret's side and wreathed her head in flowers before pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek and stepping back. Claude scanned the crowd while Margaret was distracted until his eyes landed on the woman he was looking for. If he was going to accomplish what he hoped, he would need an accomplice among the girls that he could trust, someone with an innate sense of empathy that could help him navigate the choppy waters that this had the potential to cause... someone who would understand the necessity of keeping some things secret until the time was right. Spotting her blond head in the crowd he made his way over and gently pulled her aside, whispered into her ear, "Jeanie... I'm going to try to work a miracle and I'm going to need your help to pull it off. Are you with me?"

Nearly breathless with excitement and the knowledge that she was needed, Jeanie beamed a smile up at him, "I'm all yours, Claudio... like always."

Looking from Jeanie's shining blue eyes to Margaret's stormy grey, Claude felt the clenched muscles in his chest relax just a fraction. He could do this. For Margaret, for Hubert... for Jeanie and her unborn child. For the Tribe. For Berger. He could work this one last miracle for them before he left. They needed it, this last bit of magic. And he could do it. He really could. Because these last days weren't his, they were theirs... and they deserved it. Smiling back down at Jeanie, he settled an arm around her shoulders and leaned in close, "First, I have to tell you a little secret about a boy named Peter who didn't want to grow up..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> Chibi Silliness...?
> 
> Claude: *twitch*
> 
> R-chan: *sigh* Didn't think so.
> 
> *chibi wanders off to go watch one of her two new movies* Hmm... Flashback or A Serious Person? Kiefer Sutherland + hippies... or Ben Roberts in a bit part? Decision, decisions... maybe I'll just watch both! :-D
> 
> Questions, comments, gefilte fish?
> 
> Mmm... gefilte fish... *_*
> 
> Nuriko: *twitch* Oh for the love of... You know what? I'm just not even gonna.
> 
>  _Coming Soon:_ Claude makes good on his promise and Margaret and Hubert make peace with each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should know better. I really should. Don't post a story until the whole thing's finished. *sigh* I have learned my lesson. Thank you very much. Anyway, I found myself being more than a little affected by the recent rash of tragic suicides among GLBT youth and that theme kind of crept into the second part of this story. So, I'm just going to take a moment to say: Suicide is never the answer. As long as there _is_ life, there is a chance for life to get better. That's all. *hugs for all*
> 
>  ** _October (Cripes... O_O) 1, 2010:_** It's about damned time, right? Sorry. People stopped talking to me and Hubert wouldn't talk at all. It was like pulling teeth, I tell you. O_O Then they were talking too much and all at once. We finally seem to have it sorted out though. ^_^
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and remember... comments and reviews are love!

  
**My Conviction: Part 1**   
_by[Renee-chan](mailto:chibi1723@hotmail.com)_   


Claude left Margaret in Jeanie's more than capable hands with an admonition not to tell any of the other girls what he'd just told her. She'd been understanding, more than even he would have given her credit for, and had just gently shooed him off. Claude knew that he could trust her to look after Margaret. It was why he'd singled her out in the first place. Seeing her gently exasperated look as he'd wavered another moment before leaving made him smile. She might not realize it yet, but Jeanie already had all the skills she needed to be an excellent mother. Then again, she'd been mother to the entire Tribe for longer than he'd been part of it. He only hoped she would come to understand that for herself eventually. Brushing one gentle kiss against her cheek in thanks, he went off after Berger and Hubert.

It didn't take him long to find them. Hubert was thinner than just about everyone in the Tribe except Woof, who was much taller than he was. Since that was the case, they would have to buy him clothes. There was a thrift store not far from Washington Square Park that the Tribe often shopped at, being the least expensive in the area and used to catering to the tastes of the city's hippie crowd to boot. When Claude arrived, it was to find the other men arrayed around the store idly playing around in the racks. After a few pointed questions he found Berger, Hubert and Woof towards the back of the store in one of the nooks and crannies of the wall that passed for a try-on room. Poor Hubert looked absolutely terrified.

Sighing heavily, Claude stopped next to Berger and just raised an eyebrow. The younger man gave him an unsure but game smile and wrapped an arm around his waist, "Done so soon, Claudio?"

Claude rolled his eyes, "No. I left Margaret with the girls and came to check up on you. And it looks like it's a good thing that I did." At Berger's raised eyebrow, Claude sighed again, "Can't you see the poor man is petrified of you?"

Berger ducked his head and shrugged, "I didn't _do_ anything."

Leaning over, Claude placed a soft kiss against Berger's temple, "I know you didn't. You never do. The thing is... some people just need gentler handling than others, Banana-Berger. And Hubert here needs _very_ gentle handling."

Berger rolled his eyes, gave him a one-shouldered shrug that seemed to say, "Well if you think you can do better, why weren't you here to begin with?" Claude just smiled in response, pressed another kiss to Berger's temple and bumped him gently with his hip. Berger's eyes lit with understanding and giving Claude one last squeeze, he grabbed Woof's hand and took off into the store. Claude turned back to the terrified Hubert, "Sorry about that, man. He really doesn't mean any harm."

Hubert immediately shot back with, "Where's M-M-Margaret?"

Claude clapped him on the shoulder, a delighted grin on his face, "She's off with the girls getting herself all dolled up for you, man. Don't you think you owe her something of the same?"

The poor man went beat red all the way from his collar to his hairline and stammered something unintelligible. Claude just smiled and patted him on the back, "Easy there. You're going to give yourself an ulcer, Hubert. Come on. How about we step outside for a little and get you some fresh air? You look like you could use it."

Hubert nodded vigorously, looking like he would agree to just about anything if it would get him out of this store and away from Berger's insanity. Claude walked him outside and back across to the park. The older man seemed calmer once he was back outside, but he was still twitchy enough to make Claude want to jump out of his own skin. Eventually Claude put a hand on Hubert's shoulder and pleaded, "Hubert! You're killing me here. Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to rob you. Believe it or not, we just want to help you guys, OK?"

Taking in a deep breath, Hubert nodded then dropped down onto a nearby bench and hunched over, hands clasped firmly between his knees. The poor man looked so wretched that Claude's heart went out to him, "Hubert, why are you and Margaret here, hmm?"

Hubert looked up at him with an eyebrow quirked as though to ask, "Are you dumb? Margaret told you why we're here."

Claude let out a soft laugh as he sat down beside him on the bench, "I know Margaret said that you guys are on your honeymoon, but what exactly does that mean to you? I mean, Margaret obviously wanted to meet some hippies. And it seems like you just went along with that, but you must have had a reason for agreeing. Why would someone like you wander so far outside your comfort zone?"

Hubert sighed, eyes turning downward again. His response was so soft that Claude almost missed it, "I love her. She w-was always talking about how much she w-wanted to come to Manhattan, so..." He shrugged, "That's all, I suppose."

Claude leaned back on the bench, "Yeah. That's love for you. It makes you do all sorts of crazy things that you wouldn't normally even think of doing, doesn't it?" At Hubert's soft snort, Claude laughed, "It's kind of reassuring that that doesn't change with age, I guess."

Hubert mumbled something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like, "You ain't j-j-just whistling' Dixie."

Laughing, Claude clapped him on the shoulder, "So you _do_ have a sense of humor! I like that in a man." At the resurgence of Hubert's intense blush, Claude just rolled his eyes, "Relax. You're a little old for me." When Hubert calmed down again, Claude decided to try a different tack, "Why don't you tell me how the two of you met?"

Though Claude wouldn't have thought it possible until he saw the man do it, Hubert hunched even further in on himself and muttered, "W-Why do you want to know?"

At that, Claude dropped his head into his hands and let out a small groan. This was just ridiculous. He had to do _some_ thing to get the older man to open up to him or they'd never get anywhere. Letting out a weary sigh and leaving his head in his hands, Claude started to talk, "I was almost eighteen when I dropped out of school. Up until then, I'd been the perfect student, the perfect son. Everyone just knew I was going places. I was my high school's rising star... most likely to succeed and all that. I got straight 'A's. Hell, I even played on the varsity baseball team." Snorting softly, Claude turned an eye towards Hubert and smirked, "Not even Berger knows that."

Hubert swallowed hard, relaxed a fraction from his hunched posture, "W-with... With all that g-g-going for you, why d-did you drop out?"

Oh, thank G-d. Finally. Claude leaned back on the bench again, staring up at the canopy of autumn-hued leaves over their heads. Softly, he answered, "I felt like I was suffocating. I felt like I was trapped in my own mind, screaming and begging for someone to let me out, all the while knowing that no one could even hear me past the façade _I'd_ put up. Every time I looked down the road to my future: college, medical school, a wife, two kids and a dog all living in a house in suburbia trapped behind a white picket fence... Jesus, I'd all but start hyperventilating. On the inside, I was dying, little by little, losing more of myself every day... and no one could see it behind the smile." Turning to look at Hubert, he raised an eyebrow, "I'll bet you know what that's like."

Hubert didn't answer verbally, just hunched his shoulders again and nodded miserably. Claude sighed, "Yeah. Thought so." Leaning in to look at the older man, Claude added, "I'll bet you're smart, smarter than most of the kids you grew up with. And you're a little on the scrawny side, so I'll bet you got beat up a lot, too. And I'll bet you spent a lot of Friday nights alone, huh?" At Hubert's second miserable nod, Claude sighed, "Thing is, Hubert, life isn't any easier for the people at the top. I may not have spent many Friday nights alone and I may not have been bullied... but life was no picnic for me in school, either."

Hubert finally turned to look at him, understanding and sympathy in the weight of his gaze, "Your p-p-parents?"

Nodding slowly, Claude said, "My father." Swallowing hard, he continued, "My mother just wants me to be happy and safe. I can't really fault her for that. But my father... I think he's way too aware that I'm his only chance. He doesn't have any other children, no brothers or sister, either. If I don't succeed, there's no one else after me to bring pride to our family name. And the more he tried to make me conform to a mold that I didn't fit, the more I rebelled. Dropping out may not have been the smartest decision as acts of rebellion go, but it was the only choice I felt I had." Smiling softly, he added, "And no matter how terrified I am of the consequences, I don't think I'd go back and change it, even if I could. Better to live for a year, as myself, finally able to breathe, than to live for 50 as a dead soul walking."

At that, Hubert actually smiled. Quietly he said, "I know exactly what you mean."

Claude blinked, then smiled, eyes dancing, "Hubert! You didn't stutter!" Before the other man could shut down again, Claude grasped his shoulder, "It's a good thing, man. Sorry I called you on it."

Hubert winced, "I j-just get so n-n-nervous..."

They sat in silence for a moment longer. It was Claude who eventually broke it, "When it's just you and Margaret... do you stutter then?"

At that, Hubert smiled, eyes softening as he shook his head, "I'm never n-n-nervous around Margaret."

With a gentle smile, Claude asked, "Now do you think you can tell me how you met?"

Hubert didn't even bother nodding, just quietly started to talk, most of the stutter gone from his voice as he lost himself in the memory, "It's... it's actually a little unusual." At Claude's encouraging nod, he said, "I'd been doing some freelance photography to m-make a little extra money. Things were tight back then. Anyway, I'd made enough that I had to claim it on my taxes. And I've never been all that great with money. Science makes sense. Photography makes s-sense. Money..." Wincing, he shook his head, "I just seem to have trouble holding onto it. A coworker of mine recommended his accountant to me, a Peter Brooks, said he was brilliant. He was supposed to be a real hotshot -- the best. If anyone could figure out how to keep my money in my pocket and not the government's, it would be him. I figured I c-couldn't be any more embarrassed than I already was, so I'd go meet with him."

Relaxing a little more from his hunched posture, Hubert smiled, "It was like meeting my long-lost twin. We didn't look anything alike, but in spirit, we could have been brothers. He was shy, too, and _smart_. He really was as brilliant as my coworker had said. And he was so gentle, never made me feel nervous or threatened or like I didn't deserve his time. It was so nice to have someone to talk to that I was almost sorry when tax season was over."

"The next year, I couldn't wait for that season to start again. I was at his office as soon as I could be, just happy to get to spend time with him again, to be with someone who understood what it felt like not to belong. And I might be kidding myself, but I think that he was just as happy to see me as I was to see him," the wistful smile on Hubert's face was almost painful to see.

Claude, meanwhile, couldn't help a smile of his own. Interesting, indeed, that he'd asked how Hubert had met Margaret and instead got the story of how he met Peter. Most men would have just said that they'd been introduced by a friend, not given the entire story of how they'd met the friend that introduced them. That was beyond interesting...

Hubert continued, "Every year, it was the same thing. It felt like Christmas, better, really. Every year as tax season came around and I made my appointment to see Peter, it was like... it was like I was finally coming home. I'd never felt more comfortable around anyone else, never felt like I'd had a real friend until Peter. We would spend hours talking, sometimes, not about taxes, though. We'd talk about everything... everything we wished we could do, everything we wished we'd done." Eyes shuttering a little, he said, "We went on that way for a while, meeting every year to do my taxes. Then one year, it had to be almost ten years later, when I called to make my appointment, I was told that Peter wasn't in, that he'd taken a leave of absence from the firm. I... I p-p-panicked. He was the only friend I had and I just had this f-f-feeling like he was going to slip away from me and I'd never see him again." Voice dropping into a whisper, he added, "I wanted to kill myself."

Claude laid a gentle hand in support on the other man's shoulder, not wanting to interrupt, but moved by the pain in that quiet voice. He knew a little bit what that was like, too, to be in such despair that death seemed a preferable option. Fortunately, someone had knocked some sense into him before he'd done himself any harm. That someone had been Berger.

Finally, Hubert got himself back under control and picked up the tale, "That night, though, before I could decide to go through with anything, Peter called. I was so relieved, I think I actually cried. He said he'd known I would be calling and he hadn't wanted to worry me, but that all those talks we'd had had made him really think about what he wanted to do... about who he wanted to be. And he'd decided that didn't want to be Peter Brooks, CPA, anymore... and he was finally ready to take the next step in his life. He didn't want to leave me alone, though. He knew someone, a woman, that he thought I'd like. He wanted me to meet her. At that point, I'd have agreed to anything if he'd just say he was coming back, so I said I'd meet with her. I took down the address of the restaurant, got myself dressed and went."

At that point, Claude was ready to cry, himself. Jesus... all this time, he'd thought _he_ had it hard. How much worse would it have been for him if he'd been as painfully shy as these two? How horrible would it have been to be teased, put down and tormented just for being who he was? How long would he have lasted under those circumstances? As strong and as popular as he was, even _he_ almost hadn't survived being different on the inside. And if not for Berger and the Tribe, he still might not have. _There but for the grace of G-d, go I..._ Feeling the need to say something, Claude asked quietly, "And that was Margaret...?"

At that, Hubert smiled -- a true smile, brilliant like the sun, "And that was Margaret. I got to the restaurant, nervous all over again at the thought of meeting someone new, but I knew that Peter would never wish me harm, would never put me in a situation where I would be unhappy. She was sitting at the bar wearing a pale blue gown and long, white gloves. Her hair had been a deep brown, almost black, but now it was mostly silver and done up in an elegant little French twist. And she had the most amazing storm blue eyes -- I know you've noticed, I've seen you looking at them." Claude smiled, eyes twinkling, as he shrugged.

Hubert's smile became pleased, as though daring Claude to admit that he was jealous of Hubert for having Margaret when he didn't. Seeing Claude ready to do no such thing but perhaps tempted to anyway, his smirk deepened, "The funny thing is... I'd never really noticed her eyes before. It was only then, offset by the color of her dress and with her make-up highlighting them that I noticed how beautiful they were..."

And when he raised his eyes to meet Claude's again, Claude got the distinct impression that those eyes were whispering a secret. Claude's eyes widened as his jaw slowly dropped, "You... you _know_."

Hubert smiled, shrugged, "I could never have admitted it before, but I can say it with certainty, now: I've loved Maggie from the moment I first laid eyes on her, from the very first time we talked. I know every line of her face, every nuance in her voice, every single one of her adorable mannerisms. How could I not know her when I saw her again?"

At that, Claude laughed out loud, "Oh dear G-d, what a pair you two are!" Still chuckling, he slapped a hand against his leg, "Looks like I'm going to get to work my miracle, after all... even if you've gone and done most of the work for me." As he arched an eyebrow at Hubert, the man at least had the decency to blush. Clapping the man on the shoulder, he said, "OK, so what's holding you back, man? Why not tell her that you know?"

The speed with which that wildfire blush raced across the older man's face was impressive. Finally, in a breathless whisper, Hubert stammered out, "I... I... I c-c-c-can't do... I d-d-d-don't know... I've n-n-n-never..."

Claude's eyes widened as he started silently swearing to himself. _Oh no... not again..._ Groaning, he dropped his head into his hands, "How the hell did your generation ever manage to produce mine? Do none of you know anything about sex?" Before Hubert had a chance to pass out at how blunt he'd just been, Claude waved it off, "Never mind. It doesn't matter." Meeting Hubert's eyes head on, Claude asked, "Has it ever occurred to you that it doesn't have to be about sex? It's about _love_ , man. She loved you so much that she changed everything about herself for a chance to be with you. And the crop she reaped from that is living in constant fear that you'll find out and reject her for it. If you really love her, don't you owe it to her to take that burden from her?"

Hubert's mouth dropped open, "I... I never th-th-thought about it like that."

Claude sighed, "No. No, of course, you didn't." Rubbing a hand over his face, he muttered, "Damned repressed adults." Sensing Hubert's eyes boring into him, he turned back to look at him, "What?"

Hubert's blush deepened, but his eyes took on a calculating look. He didn't say anything, just continued to stare. Finally, Claude leaned back, edging away from him on the bench, "OK... now you're weirding _me_ out. What the hell, man?"

Hubert just continued to stare. Eventually, he said, slowly and calculatingly, "Y-You... You have a male lover."

Claude's eyes widened and he started to sweat. Before Hubert could even get the question out, he broke, jerking up off the bench and holding his hands out in a warding posture as he backed away a few paces, "Oh, no. Oh, _hell_ no, man. No way."

Hubert stood up, advanced a pace towards Claude, "W-Why not?"

Claude stared, felt an irrational giggle coming on and desperately tried to head it off, "I just... Shit, man, you're twice my age! At least! I can't... I can't teach you about sex!" And there was that unmanly squeaking again. Damn it.

Hubert 's face fell and he slumped, "O-o-okay. I'm s-s-sorry for asking. I j-just thought..."

Claude let out a small whimper, "No... no, _I'm_ sorry. I just... Hell, I don't even know why I'm embarrassed. You really want...?"

The speed with which Hubert's hopeful eyes locked on his was frightening. The quick nodding and the pleading in his face that followed it nearly did Claude in. In that moment he was forcibly reminded of Woof. Wait... Woof... Berger! Yes! He could foist this off on Berger! Eyeing the hopeful yet mortified eyes of a man who'd already endured far too much, Claude slumped. No. He couldn't hand Hubert over to Berger for that kind of a talk. The poor man would end up scared off sex for the rest of his life.

Hubert took another step closer, eyes earnest, "I... I want to give her everything she wants, everything she deserves from a husband. But the last thing I want to do is hurt her. Ever. Please."

And that did it. Letting out a soft moan, Claude dropped his head into his hands and rubbed them against his face. After a few moments, he briskly slapped his hands twice against his cheeks and straightened, "OK. OK. I'll do it. But afterwards, you _will_ let Berger dress you up without a fuss and you _will_ stop acting like a terrified little mouse every time one of the Tribe approaches you. I get the feeling you're going to be spending some time with us while you're here and to be honest... _my_ nerves can't handle _your_ nerves. Agreed?"

Hubert looked like he might agree to anything as long as Claude agreed to help him. He nodded vigorously. Claude sighed, "I can _not_ believe I'm actually doing this." Sitting back down on the bench, Claude dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. When Hubert settled back down next to him, Claude lifted his head, "OK. Why don't we start at the beginning. Do you at least know about sex between a man and a woman?" At Hubert's blush and miserable look, Claude whimpered, "OK. OK. Why don't we start there, then? It may never apply to you, but it never hurts to know the basics." At Hubert's hopeful look, Claude fought off the urge to whimper again, _Jesus... this is gonna take a while._

  


* * *

As the sun was setting over Washington Square Park, Claude was forced to admit that that hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. Hubert was at least an attentive student and generally seemed to pick things up on the first go round. Still... if Claude never had to do that again, _ever_ , it would be way too soon. He'd left Hubert in Berger and Woof's hands, admonishing Woof to keep an eye on the situation and not let Berger get too out of control. He just needed to get out of there for a while. Hell... after that talk, what he _really_ wanted was to take Berger with him and put his lecture into practice, but the other man was so excited about getting to dress Hubert up like a hippie that Claude didn't want to take that away from him. Some things were just more important. So, instead, he wandered back over to the other side of the park to check on Maggie and the girls.

When he got there, it was to an find an awesome sight. The girls were sitting in a circle in their usual clearing, relaxing and sharing a few joints. And sitting between Dionne and Crissy, animatedly talking and gesturing at Sheila, was a new addition to the Tribe. One of the girls stood up from the circle and made her waddling way over to him, "Hey, Claudio."

Claude smiled as he pulled Jeanie to him in a gentle embrace and pressed a kiss to her temple, "Hey yourself, Jeanie. I see she cooperated."

Jeanie laughed as she melted against him, "Took a little convincing, but once I got her alone and told her that I knew, she relaxed and got into the spirit of it. We actually had a lot of fun finding her clothes. And you know what? It suits her, Claudio. She really does fit right in with us. Not just on the outside." Lifting a long-fingered hand to rest against his chest, Jeanie smiled softly, "In here, man. It's karma. She belongs with us, Claudio."

Squeezing her gently, Claude beamed a smile at her, "I'm glad. I like her. Hubert, too. I really do. They deserve a little happiness, don't you think?"

Nodding vigorously, Jeanie's smile widened. She poked him in the shoulder, "Speaking of which, how did things go with Hubert? I notice he's not with you."

Claude shook his head, "Unexpectedly, Jeanie. They went unexpectedly." At her raised eyebrow, he laughed, "He already knew, Jeanie. He's known since the first time they 'met.' How's that for a kick in the ass?"

Jeanie giggled, then quickly turned her face into his shoulder to stifle it as Margaret turned their way. Seeing Claude standing there, her eyes widened, her hands fluttered and she immediately got up to head over. Almost breathless with her own excitement, she stopped several paces from the two of them and clasped her hands together, "Where's Hubert?"

Claude just shook his head and smirked, "First things first, little lady." Lifting his free hand he spun his finger in a little circle, indicating that she should spin for him. Blushing slightly, she did so. They'd done well by her. They really had. She was wearing a loose white peasant top with sapphire blue and jade green embroidering on the neck and sleeves -- Claude recognized it as one of Bourle's -- and a loose, flowing tie-dyed skirt in various hues of blue. She had a soft pair of moccasins on her feet and her hair had been let down from its pins to float loose about her head, adorned only with the flowers Crissy had placed there earlier. And, of course, Sheila had dug out one of her many oversized wooden peace signs for her to wear around her neck. And best of all, she seemed to have a soft glow about her... a sense of freedom and self-confidence that had been lacking before. She was beautiful.

Letting go of Jeanie, Claude took a step closer and wrapped a gentle arm around the older woman's waist. Pulling her slowly up against him, he leaned closer. Smirking as her breathing sped up, he pressed a soft kiss to each cheekbone and another to her lips. Smiling down at her, he said, "You are one lovely lady, Margaret Mead. The Tribe did right by you and I'm glad."

Margaret stared up at him for another minute before blushing and pushing him away, "Oh, you! You're incorrigible! I'm twice your age! Beast!" And yet in spite of her words, Claude could see that he'd made her happy with the attention -- embarrassed maybe, but happy.

The rest of the girls laughed, gathering close around their wandering Aquarius to steal their own kisses. Feeling indulgent tonight and freer than usual, Claude obliged. Eventually Sheila stepped up to him and wrapped her slender arms around him, turning her face up for her own kiss. Indulging her more thoroughly than any of the others, Claude let the rest of the pain and fear of the last few weeks just wash away. He was with his Tribe, the people he loved. He was helping someone, doing a good thing. That was all that mattered right now.

When he and Sheila reluctantly let the kiss go, she said, "I'm glad to see you so relaxed, Claude. Really glad." Unspoken was the cause of his earlier stress. Not even Sheila wanted to jinx the moment by bringing that up. Quirking an eyebrow at him, she added, "But I can't help but think I'm missing something. You're in on it. Jeanie's in on it. I'm not sure about Berger and Woof -- actually, I'm _never_ sure about Berger and Woof." Smiling hopefully up at him, she asked, "Will you let me in on the game?"

Pressing another kiss to her soft lips, Claude, nonetheless, shook his head, "Sorry, Sheila. It isn't my secret to tell. But if I don't miss my guess, you'll find out soon enough, anyway."

And as if those words had been a summons, Berger and the rest of the men arrived, announced by their Leader's boisterous call, "Oh ladies -- and Claude -- your men have arrived! The orgy can now commence!"

As one, they all turned to look. And there was Hubert. This Hubert, however, was transformed, not just in body, but in mind as well. Berger had dressed him carefully and with great consideration. He wore a pair of bellbottomed jeans, artfully torn and patched like the rest of them. He had on a soft, flowing green poet's shirt, unbuttoned to halfway down his chest. Over the shirt he had on a fringed, black suede jacket that could have been the younger brother of the one Berger was wearing. On his feet were a pair of black suede boots and he wore a beaded headband similar to Claude's, but in hues of green and blue.

Margaret let out a small gasp from behind him and Claude turned just in time to catch her clutching her hands to her chest, eyes round with delight as she breathed out, "Oh... Hubert..."

Hud leaned down and whispered something in Hubert's ear, then gave the older man a nudge to send him in Margaret's direction. Hubert didn't need to be told twice. He walked over to Margaret, fringe swirling around him as he moved, making him seem larger and somehow more confident -- or maybe that last was thanks to the look in his eyes. Margaret was entranced with him. When he reached her, he looked back towards Hud who smiled and waved him on. He turned back to Margaret and in a voice barely loud enough to carry five feet away said, "Maggie... you look just as lovely as the day I met you -- more so, in fact. I am so proud and so happy to be your husband. My life would be so empty without you. You're my best friend. You always have been and you always will be. Nothing could ever take that away. Nothing could ever make me love you less." Wrapping one arm around her waist to pull her close and lifting the other to cup her cheek, he asked gently, "So... is there anything that you want to tell me?"

At that, Margaret's breath caught and she turned to look at Claude, fear plain as day spread across her features. Claude just gave her an encouraging smile, "What more reassurance do you need than that, Maggie? Remember? All you need is love... Love, man."

As he spoke those words, he felt Berger slip up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist. Nuzzling his face into Claude's neck, he gave the join of his shoulder a gentle nip. Claude reached back behind him to bury his hand in Berger's thick, dark curls, sighing softly in pleasure. This was what he'd wanted. This was what he'd needed, what he'd been denying himself the last few days out of fear. No more. If he only had another month, another week, another day... this was what he wanted. Turning his head, he caught Berger's lips with his own, exchanging one of those soft, leisurely kisses with the other boy that Berger openly disdained, yet secretly loved. When he turned back, he smiled at Maggie and Hubert and raised an eyebrow.

Emboldened by their performance, Maggie turned back to Hubert and nodded, "There... there is something I've been wanting to tell you, Hubert. It's... it's about your friend Peter." Seeing Hubert doing nothing but smiling encouragingly, Maggie took in a deep breath and let her voice drop back into its natural range, "I... I _am_ your friend Peter." Then blushing wildly and shaking in anxiety, she buried her head in Hubert's chest.

There wasn't a single sound amongst the rest of the Tribe. No one moved, they hardly dared even breath. It was as though the entire world had paused, waiting in desperation for Hubert's answer to Margaret's admission.

Hubert tucked a gentle finger under Margaret's chin and slowly lifted her face so she could meet his eyes. Once she did, he slid that hand into the curls at the side of her face, then around to cup the back of her head. Gently pulling her towards him, he sealed their lips together in a soft, passionate kiss. When they parted, he smiled down at her, eyes still shining with love, "Thank you for finally telling me, Maggie. I'm honored that you trust me that much." His lips sliding into a soft smirk, he placed another kiss on the tip of her nose, "And I still don't love you any less. How could I? I loved you long before I ever met 'Margaret.' I just didn't have the courage to admit it until now."

Maggie let out a breathless little cry of pure joy and threw her arms around Hubert's neck, quietly sobbing in her relief. Hubert soothed her, murmuring gentle words of love into her ear, her neck, her cheek, whatever part of her was within reach. When she finally calmed, he leaned forward to claim another kiss, deeper, lingering this time. Watching the pair, Berger smirked against Claude's neck, "I think I recognize a familiar style and technique, there, Claudio. What exactly were the two of you up to when you were having your little chat?"

Claude blushed and ducked his head with a soft groan, "It was horrible, Berger. He didn't know _anything_. He didn't know... he just... it was painful, OK? And he was trying to understand, he really was, he just... how do you explain to someone how to kiss when they've never done it before?"

Berger let out a delighted huff of a laugh, "You let him kiss you, didn't you, cupcake?"

Letting out another groan, Claude turned in Berger's embrace to meet the other man's dancing eyes, "I knew it. I just knew that nickname was going to stick." Berger just waggled his eyebrows, eyes dancing. Claude sighed, "Yeah, I let him kiss me. Just to help him get the hang of it. And that's **all**. Nothing else. OK?"

Berger laughed, pulled Claude flush up against him and started pressing nipping kisses up the column of his neck, "Good. Because, tonight _this_..." and with that word, he let his hands slide downward to cup the curves of Claude's ass and pull him closer still, "...is _mine_." Grinning possessively into Claude's eyes, he said, "OK?"

Smirking right back, Claude pulled Berger's head down for another kiss, deeper, probing, more aggressive this time. When they parted, panting, for air, Claude let his smile soften, "OK, Sexy-Berger. OK." And it was OK. Maggie and Hubert were going to be fine. They would stay with the Tribe that week, learning what they needed about them and about each other. The Tribe would take care of them and they would take care of the Tribe. Claude planned to have a talk with Maggie, in particular, about helping to look out for Berger after he was gone, but not now. Not now, with the moon full and shining overhead and the man he loved shouting promises of passion at him with his eyes. There would be time enough for that later... tomorrow.

So, when Berger took advantage of his grip to lift the older boy off the ground, Claude wrapped his legs around Berger's waist and just let it happen. And it was then that he noticed Sheila and Jeanie, both staring after them with wistful smiles on their faces. He was used to seeing Jeanie that way, had long since developed a selective blindness to it -- he'd had to -- but seeing Sheila wearing that same look... Mood dampening, he whispered into Berger's ear, "Banana-Berger... Sheila..."

Berger paused, and Claude could feel the fight he was having with himself over the issue, trying to decide between what he wanted and what was right. Claude could understand -- he was having the same one. Finally, Berger husked out, "Do... do you want her? Do you want her to come with us?"

Staring across the small gap separating them from the other member of their threesome, Claude felt his heart start to thunder in his ears. He... tonight wasn't supposed to be for him. It was supposed to be for _them_... for the Tribe, for Sheila. And she wanted to come with them. He could almost feel the wave of her yearning as she stared at them, blue eyes boring into his. And he found that, for once, the answer to that yearning was "No." A fine trembling starting at his core and spread to the rest of his limbs as he struggled to put the conflicting need into words.

Rescue came from an unlikely source. Jeanie put a hand on Sheila's shoulder and leaned close to whisper in her ear. Sheila started, eyes flashing initially at the intrusion, but eventually, as she listened to Jeanie's words, her eyes softened. When she raised them back up to meet Claude's, there was gentle understanding and forgiveness in them. She mouthed one gentle word, "Go," then turned away to walk off with Jeanie.

Heart swelling with love and relief and feeling a little less like a heel for wanting what he did, Claude tightened his grip around Berger and whispered his answer into the younger boy's ear, "No. No, I don't want Sheila. Tonight I want you. Only you, Sexy-Berger. You and me. Just you and me." He was babbling, he knew, but he couldn't seem to stop.

But Berger understood, he always seemed to, and he leaned up to stop Claude's rush of words with a gentle kiss, "OK, Claudio. Just you and me. I get it. I want it, too."

With those words, Claude all but melted in his relief and he nodded, "OK. OK." Berger then beamed a smile up at him and finished carting him off into the woods. That in itself was a little unusual, for the Tribe leader to seek out privacy for a tryst... but then again, Claude understood that, too. There was a rift between them that needed healing before he left and they needed that privacy for it. And Berger, in spite of frequent proof to the contrary, was just as sensitive to the moods of his Tribe as Jeanie. Like always, he knew what Claude needed before _he_ even knew he needed it. So, he found them a spot, secluded from the others, and laid Claude down in the soft bed of leaves and gave him what he needed, for as long as he needed it.

And it was then that Claude realized that he wasn't going to give this up, not without a fight. If he couldn't stay, then he would make _damned_ sure that he came back. No matter what he had to endure, no matter who he had to kill... he would make sure that he came back. If Peter could change his entire self, his entire being to be with Hubert, then Claude could do this. He would learn to fight and he would become the best, would kill more Viet Cong than anyone else, if it meant he could come home to Berger. Because more than anyone, more than Sheila, even, he needed Berger. He needed him just as badly as Berger needed him. And in that moment, as they lay together in the soft autumn leaves, Claude silently made him that promise -- that someday, they would be together, just like Hubert and Maggie, no matter what it took. And just before he fell asleep, he finally said those words that he'd held back ever since he'd met the other boy, whispering them into the fall of Berger's dark curls, "I love you, Berger..."

And it might have been his imagination, but mere moments later, he thought he heard Berger whisper in response, "Love you, too, Claudio... Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:**
> 
> And now for some chibi silliness!
> 
> Claude: *twitch* Haven't you had enough of that in your Sims game?
> 
> R-chan: *sweatdrop* What are you complaining about? You're finally getting some on a regular basis. Not only that, but it leaked! Into the fic! O_O
> 
> Berger: *smirk* Boy, oh boy, did it ever... *_*
> 
> Claude: *twitch* Well... I suppose you do have a point there...
> 
> R-chan: *pleased grin* See? Told you.
> 
> Questions, comments, Mutsu apples?
> 
> What? We're going out East tomorrow to hit the farmstands. I'm excited. ^_^
> 
> Nuriko: *twitch* I don't care. If they get sex before _we_ get sex, I'm gonna be awful pissed. That's all I'm saying.
> 
> R-chan: *blush* *slightly hysterical* No one's getting any sex!
> 
> Berger: *smirk, cuddles a Claude* Speak for yourself.
> 
> R-chan: *more hysterical* You're not helping any!!
> 
> Nuriko: *laughs* You know... I think they're starting to grow on me.


End file.
